Two Hufflepuffs & And a Greenhouse
by Katie Emma Hall
Summary: Hugo is trying to hold his relationship with his sister together. Saskia is trying to hold herself together. And Neville Longbottom, he's the one holding pretty much everything together. Complicated? Hell yes.


Disclaimer: I'm not JK Rowling. I wish I was... but identity theft is illegal. :( Oh and if you don't like swearing... I suggest you leave now.

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Two Hufflepuffs, a Tentacula and an interfering Herbology teacher - Chapter One

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'I know _exactly _where you belong, lad!'

Rose crossed her fingers and muttered under her breath, earning her a few sharp looks from the other Slytherins. 'Not Hufflepuff. Please Merlin, _not bloody Hufflepuff_!'

And in the next three seconds, she felt any social credibility that she had garnered in the previous year slip like sand through her fingers.

'Oh, fuck!'

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Hugo found himself up against a wall later that evening. Of course, had he been five years older and five years wiser, the experience may have been a little more enjoyable. Oh, and if it hadn't been his elder sister holding him at wandpoint, he may have remembered the occasion for different reasons...

Rose was furious. He didn't need to even ask _why_, of course. His sister was so predictable, it was almost boring. 'Wait a second... weren't you saying to me that you thought I'd get into Hufflepuff just this morning?' he asked her drily, cockily raising an eyebrow.

Rose growled. Hugo rolled his eyes and exhaled wearily.

'So you were giving me hell all summer for _nothing? _Now, now, Rosie. I know you better than that. No...' he trailed off thoughtfully, ignoring the red-hot tip of the wand digging into his adam's apple. 'You're so transparent. You actually wanted me to get into Slytherin, didn't you?'

Rose's eyebrows shot up. 'You what?'

Hugo smirked. He knew exactly how to push Rose's buttons. 'Face it, Rosie. You wanted your sweet 'ickle brother in the same house as you, or at least in Ravenclaw. You _do _care!' This had the desired effect. Rose pushed herself away from him with force, looking completely disgusted, as if he'd broken wind. 'Hugo, shut up! You're such a twat!' she hissed.

He crossed his arms and cocked his head. 'Admit it.'

Rose growled again, but this time it was much more half-hearted. Hugo continued to gaze expectantly at her, trying to break her down. 'Well?' he said, 'I won't think badly of you. I won't even tell anyone. Hell, I'll still be scared shitless of you! I'd just like to know; why do you care that I'm a Hufflepuff?' Rose rolled her eyes and looked around hastily. The coast was clear.

'Because...' she said in a low voice, stepping closer to him. He just about managed not to flinch. 'Because the house you're in says lots about your family... and yourself. The Ravenclaws, they have their brains. That's what makes them respectable. And the Gryffindors,' she said sardonically, 'they have their _brawn_. The Slytherins have their cunning and secrecy-'

'-And the Hufflepuffs are known for protecting their own, their loyalty and their genuine kindness. So tell me, Rosie, for Merlin's sake. What's the big deal?'

'Aghr!' Rose stamped her foot in frustration and glowered at Hugo. 'What's wrong with you? Are you mentally deficient or something? Hugo, kindness gets you_ nowhere _in life!' By now she was holding his shoulders in a death-grip, her face barely inches from his. 'Being a pansy won't earn you respect. In fact, you'll be walked all over. You won't get a well-paid job just because you're _sweet_!' she spat. Hugo had had enough, and he shook her off him.

'You're such an idiot. So fucking narrow-minded!' he yelled at Rose, who flinched as if he'd slapped her. Empowered by this, he continued. 'I may be a Hufflepuff but I'm not retarded! I'm not a coward, and I actually learned the art of 'cunning', as if that's anything to be _proud_ of, from the very best! You, in case you're too dull to realise, you daft cow!'

He took a few steps, then turned back toward her. 'I can't leave without saying this, Rose,' he snarled, 'but if you can't accept that I'm a Hufflepuff, that I'll be known for actually having morals, then I can't be your brother. It's your choice.' On this note, he fled.

'Hugo...'

But Hugo carried on running.

And Rose Weasley, for the first time in her life, was lost for words.

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Saskia Diggory felt, for the first time in her short eleven years, a true connection to her mysterious elder brother. A brother who had died long before her conception.

The Hufflepuff common room was exactly how her dad had described it. Warm, golden and welcoming, an uncanny representation of the souls of those in Hufflepuff house. She had written to her parents soon after the sorting ceremony, and their reply couldn't have been prouder. But she could still feel it; their contant praise and love was often punctuated with pain and grief. They couldn't love her without remembering their lost son.

But she had never minded.

In fact, Saskia felt heartbroken for her mother and father. She had never thought of herself; that _she _would never get to meet her brother. That _she _alone was expected to carry on his legacy and represent the next generation of Diggorys. The way she thought of it, she had been after Cedric's time. So surely she had no right to grieve?

But what was it that she was feeling as she stared at the memorial portrait of Cedric Nathaniel Diggory? Coming here, away from her family's constant sadness for Cedric and expectations of her to make them happy, it had empowered her. She felt like she could breathe. Finally, she allowed herself to be selfish. A sob gathered itself in her chest and threatened to uncoil. What if Cedric had never met Voldemort that night? What if he'd lived?

'I'd never have been born.'

And so Saskia Cedrica Diggory broke the cycle of selflessness. She thought of herself. And she felt bitterness at the back of her throat at the thought that she was living her parent's dreams; the very dreams that had once been reserved for Cedric!

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Neville Longbottom had certainly fallen on his feet. Once the main figure of ridicule during his Hogwarts years, he had found his confidence and chivalry in his sixth year. In his seventh, he had led the resistance against Voldemort's occupation of Hogwarts. He had destroyed a Horcrux. He had fought bravely and now women fell at his feet. He was a public figure of adoration, and he hated it.

He hated it with a passion!

With money-hungry witches wanting a peice of the glory, there came the inevitable 'kiss-and-tell' stories. The lovechild claims. There was even an 'I'm Neville's real father!' story, which had resulted in the man being left fecally incontinent for life, and leaving Neville with a criminal record. It was Minerva McGonagall who had provided him with a lifeline; the position of Herbology Professor at Hogwarts.

He absolutely loved it!

Teaching was his calling. Of course, beheading a garangutan snake, standing up to Lord Voldemort and fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts were memories that he could never forget; they were a part of him now. They had changed the very fabric of his being. But there was something about teaching that warmed him to the core, and not only was it quiet and out of the spotlight, but it was also rather well paid!

One day in early September, as he was tending the venomous tentacula, he heard a strange noise coming from greenhouse five. 'Behave,' he warned the mischevious plant, ensuring that any gardening tools and growth potions were safely stored out of reach. Greenhouse five was full of rare and exotic magical flora, with at least five plants that were the very last of their kind. The department had used most of its funding to procure them, and they were also important for academic purposes. 'I'd best make sure the wards are still up,' he muttered to himself distractedly. He crept into the humid greenhouse, loosening his tie and gasping at the heat. After checking the wards and being satisfied that they were still secure, he let himself relax.

'Professor Longbottom?'

He gave a yelp and clutched at his chest in surprise. 'Blimey,' he panted, 'next time, don't sneak up on me like that!' He took a steadying breath and took a good look at the student who had scared the skeleton out of him. It was a first year Hufflepuff; she'd shown incredible aptitude at Herbology during her first lesson. 'Oh, hello Saskia! How're you?' he asked her amiably. It was a silly question, and he instantly regretted asking her. Her pale green eyes were red-rimmed. Her eyes were empty and glazed, and he recognised something in her that he'd seen in himself during dark times in his own life.

He smiled at her assuringly. 'I won't ask why you were in here, even though anyone below third year is restricted,' he explained with a calm tone and a gentle pat on the back. 'I can see something's bothering you. How about a cup of tea and a chat in my office?'

She gave him a watery smile and nodded shakily.

At least someone understood her.

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**A/N: Whewwww. ADD + story writing = HARD. I'll get the next chapter up as soon as possible... if I get enough reviews! Just a question; anyone feel that I'm wrong, making Rose a Slytherin? Just to justify; the Weasleys are related to the Malfoys, the Blacks, and pretty much all of the pureblood families. I thought, 'why not?' She's not evil, she's a good girl. She's just fiesty and rather slick, which I like! :D**


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